Dreams of Heroes
by Bemused Writer
Summary: The burdens of leadership wear on Mahariel but she knows she'll never truly be able to give it up. Once you're a warden, you're always a warden. But for all that she's lost she has gained something special in someone that she had never anticipated. It's a bond that will follow her throughout life. Told as snapshots of Mahariel's adventures. Part 1 of Follow the Grey.
1. Origins

**Author's Notes:** This story is essentially an introduction to a much larger piece I have in the works that will span the entirety of the three games.

There's quite a bit of unreciprocated love in the first chapter especially but this does not impact what will ultimately be the main couple (Warden/Zevran). Chapter 1 will cover the characters from Origins while chapter 2 will cover those from Awakening.

Thank you for reading; I hope you all enjoy this venture into the Dragon Age universe with me!

Edited July 12, 2018.

* * *

 **Mahariel**

It was supposed to be a normal scouting mission; it was something she and Tamlen did every day but what followed was the beginning of a series of events that would ultimately uproot Mahariel from everything she'd ever known. She couldn't have known it at the time but later on she would look back at this point in time with some bitterness; could it all have been changed if she'd been wiser?

They'd encountered some _shemlen_ in the wilderness. This wasn't entirely unheard of but she knew the sight of them filled Tamlen with an irrational rage. When Tamlen saw them he confronted them immediately. Mahariel was more cautious. She didn't hate humans but she didn't trust them, not a bit. She only stepped out when it became clear the humans weren't about to leave well enough alone. She didn't want this to escalate if possible; she'd seen enough violence between elves and humans to know it never ended well.

 _This is a waste of time. Why'd they have to take this route?_ It was an old song at this point.

Tamlen wanted them dead, unsurprisingly, but Mahariel refused her companion's inclinations.

"Are we to invite more of them, Tamlen? If we kill them they will not stop; they'll want vengeance."

He looked away in frustration. "I hate this about you. Shouldn't _we_ want vengeance?"

The _shemlen_ looked at them with growing alarm and some confusion. Mahariel kept her bow aimed at them just in case; their confusion could lead them to doing something rash.

"Tell us what you were doing here. Now," she said. It was best to establish control over the situation as swiftly as possible.

What followed was a strange explanation about a cave and some ruins.

"You cannot believe this, _lethallan_!" Tamlen cried.

Mahariel lowered her bow, her eyes cold and unforgiving as she gazed upon the humans. "Leave this forest," she said.

The humans scurried away with only a few glances back.

When they were finally out of sight Mahariel turned to face her comrade.

"Tamlen, there could be something to what they say. Shouldn't we investigate? I'm sure the Keeper would want us to." Tamlen was a difficult sort but he wasn't above seeing reason given time.

"Ugh, it's always like this with you." He strapped his bow to his back, frustration clear in his every movement. She said nothing, allowing him a moment of thought.

"But you are right," he finally acknowledged. "Let's take a look."

* * *

She'd been wrong. Investigating had brought nothing but sorrow.

She couldn't focus. There was a scurrying in the back of her head and it was driving her _crazy._

"No," she mumbled. "I will not … yield… Tamlen!"

"What is wrong with her?"

 _Who?_ She struggled to open her eyes. The voice was familiar. Keeper Marethari?

An unfamiliar voice responded. It was low and had a urgent thread running underneath it. He was saying something about the taint.

"It's going to be all right, Mahariel." This was a different voice, a high pitched, melodious one. Merrill. "Keeper Marethari is doing everything she can."

Mahariel tried to respond but everything hurt and the scurrying was now a decided _scratching_ and she could hear a voice, a rumble, and it was consuming her—

When Mahariel finally woke up it was to Merrill looking down at her worriedly with Fenarel at her side. Mahariel took a brief look at her surroundings. She was in one of the healing tents. Her brow furrowed.

"What happened?" Everything still felt like a dream.

"You were sick for two days. We feared you would perish. Keeper Marethari just barely brought you back." Merrill reached over and stroked her hair. She had joined their clan at a later date due to the low amount of magic users among them. Despite that Mahariel had quickly grown fond of her; she maintained her innocence in the face of adversity and was no less wise for it. Mahariel knew it must have been hard for Merrill to leave her original clan but she was grateful to her for doing so. She would make an excellent keeper someday.

Fenarel was a good friend of Tamlen's and, by way of proxy, of Mahariel as well.

 _Tamlen._

Mahariel's heart went cold.

"What happened?" he asked. "Where is Tamlen?"

Mahariel felt sick. She didn't know. It should have been the first thing she asked but she was finding it difficult to organize her thoughts and now it seemed that no one in her clan had seen him either.

"I … there was a mirror. I don't know what happened. He touched it and he disappeared. Has no one seen him?"

"We don't know anything yet for sure," Merrill admitted hesitantly. "You were brought here by a human named Duncan. He introduced himself as a Grey Warden. I think, maybe, he can help you. You really do need to speak to the keeper."

Mahariel sighed. The keeper. No doubt she would scold her soundly for the risks she and Tamlen took. The worst part was that Mahariel knew she'd be right. Mahariel never should have led them to that cave.

"All right; lead the way."

* * *

Duncan was … an interesting man, she supposed. Mahariel wasn't sure if she liked him or not. There was a hard edge to his words and actions. He was a man who had seen too much hardship and was at the end of his rope. He was also the only person who could help her. She had the taint. Darkspawn had returned.

Mahariel had been in denial about what had happened to her and Tamlen right up until that moment. If there were darkspawn about, and if Tamlen were missing…

She didn't want to accept it but Duncan was probably right. She would likely never see Tamlen again.

She wasn't ready to mourn but the funeral began regardless. It was the respectful thing to do.

Mahariel hated it.

When she left with Duncan she did so with mixed feelings. She needed time away from her people. She wasn't ready to face the extent of the damage she and Tamlen had wrought. Furthermore, this was the only way to honor his memory, by removing the evil spreading across the land that had taken him away from her.

Even so, she knew she would miss them all terribly. Merrill gave her a tight hug before she left.

" _Dareth shiral._ May we meet again soon."

"I hope so," Mahariel replied but she had a growing fear that she wouldn't see them for a very long time, that they would be nothing but memories to her by the time this was through.

"Be careful with that mirror, Merrill," Mahariel added softly. She heard Merrill take a sharp intake of breath.

"How did you…?"

Mahariel held her away and smiled bitterly.

"You're the Keeper's first, Merrill, and you're one of the most curious people around. I'm not saying you shouldn't study it. It's obviously part of our history somehow but … be careful, all right? I don't want to hear that you disappeared as well."

Merrill nodded somberly. Mahariel turned to Fenarel and gave him a quick embrace.

"Don't become too bitter, Fenarel. You've a good heart."

"The same to you, Mahariel. I fear your burden as a Grey Warden will be great."

Mahariel closed her eyes and gave him another tight squeeze before turning away and joining Duncan. She avoided looking at the keeper. She could feel the sorrow radiating off of her.

She wondered if Paivel would have to do another prayer for the dead soon.

 **Alistair**

When Mahariel first met Alistair she considered him a curiosity. He was generally a flustered, ignorant sort but utterly harmless as far as humans went. She was surprised at how much she liked him. He had an easygoing nature that was relaxing to be around and they became fast friends. Her only real concern was how much he shunned the burdens of leadership. If she had been a harder person, a crueler one, she would have told him he had no right to force her to lead their band of misfits to certain doom. She didn't say it though but in her darker moments she thought it.

Most of the time she and Alistair traded stories and laughs, though. He was such a loyal person but not terribly worldly. She was beginning to realize that was something they had in common.

Now that she wasn't among the Dalish she was uncertain of what her role in the world was. People treated her like a servant more often than not and she could barely restrain her anger at the squalor most elves lives in.

Alistair was a good distraction from all that. He didn't treat her "like an elf." He didn't seem to notice it for the most part even though he towered over her in height. Why were humans so tall, anyway?

She didn't bring up her difficulties with him, however. Alistair was a fun friend but he wasn't the best at giving advice.

* * *

She caught him sneaking shy glances at her on occasion during their travels that she pretended not to notice for both their sake. It had taken her awhile to put two and two together but some of Alistair's comments could be interpreted as nothing other than flirtatious. Amusingly flirtatious, he was always a jokester, but she decided not to engage. Nothing could ever truly form between them and while she cared for him she didn't in that way.

Despite the struggle they faced on a day-to-day basis he was still so innocent. He looked at her like she were sunlight and she could almost believe there weren't shadows wrapping around her soul.

* * *

She hated herself a little bit for taking his greatest fear and making him live it. The look of betrayal on his face when she made him king, had him marry Anora, was a face she had never anticipated to be directed at her. When she refused to be his advisor she knew she had crushed him entirely. She explained she had to find more wardens, that it was her _duty_ to restore the order. Wasn't that what Alistair should want too?

"And what of your own people?" Alistair snarled. She stared at him in disbelief. He had never brought up the Dalish before, had always treated her as just another warden. His lips wavered and he cried softly, "What of me? How can you leave me like this?"

She said something but she couldn't quite recall what. It hadn't been a satisfactory answer either way. She left with a friendship in tatters and Alistair's words ringing in her head.

 _What of my own people indeed._ Her step was beleaguered. Wasn't she supposed to be returning to her clan? Why was she getting even more involved with human affairs than she'd been by token of joining the Grey Wardens?

Maybe Alistair was right.

When she returned to her room Zevran looked up at her worriedly.

"Whatever is the matter, _mi amora_?

She didn't know how to explain that she might have lost one of her greatest friends and she had no one to blame but herself.

 **Morrigan**

Dark, raven hair and sharp, eagle eyes. That was Mahariel's first impression of Morrigan and she was so pleased to see the woman in question was every bit as cunning and fierce as she had hoped when she first met her. It had been a polite introduction but underneath it all Mahariel was simply fascinated to know who this individual was. She suspected Morrigan was more taken aback by her attention than she let on but one could never be entirely certain with the Witch of the Wilds.

Mahariel took care to keep her attraction to herself. The Blight was hardly the time to be pursuing a romance anyway and, if Mahariel were honest with herself, it was doubly strange to find a human attractive in the first place. Mahariel felt a little guilty at that; she'd never thought of herself as holding any biases but now that she was surrounded by humans she was beginning to think she had some holdover from all her time with the Dalish. She wondered what Tamlen would have thought. Most likely he would have been outraged but with enough time he would have accepted it. Maybe he would have found it amusing.

* * *

Morrigan had a harsh tongue, Mahariel quickly learned, but she was delightfully straightforward in her opinions as well. It was a cool night at camp when she meandered over to Morrigan's tent hoping for a little conversation. It had been a long day and Alistair had gone to bed already. Near him the mabari, Moya, slept beside him letting out little _woofs_ in response to its dreams.

Mahariel was in no mood to fall immediately to sleep; her mind was spinning with the day's events.

Morrigan looked up at her from where she was seated beside the fire. She looked unsure, which was unusual to say the least but she was also awake, which was all Mahariel needed.

"Evening, Morrigan," she began and then quickly found she wasn't sure what to say next. "Could we chat…?"

"Full of questions, are we? I think 'tis my turn to ask you a few, don't you think?"

Mahariel found that to be fair. She'd been digging at Morrigan's past for days now, so if Morrigan wanted a few answers to questions of her own she would be happy to reciprocate.

"Have you learned much of Dalish magic?" Morrigan finally asked.

Mahariel shook her head. "I know the basic theories but I am no mage. Why?"

Morrigan gestured beside her and Mahariel took a seat, waiting to see where this went. Morrigan collected her thoughts in silence before letting out a small grin. Mahariel's heart fluttered a little.

"Your people's history is fascinating to me. We humans have lost so much by ignoring your society. The Old Gods…" she broke off and shook her head.

"I, too, would like to see our people on equal ground," Mahariel said.

"'Tis a nice thought indeed. But unlikely, I think, for now. I … have been difficult with you, I know. We are not often of the same mind but I want you to know I do not follow you unwillingly." They were heavy words for Morrigan.

Mahariel looked away in a mix of embarrassment and delight. She was fairly certain this was Morrigan's roundabout way of turning her down but to know that Morrigan didn't resent her for bringing her along, well, that was already more than she'd hoped for.

"There are some things we agree upon. Dalish history, for one. Have you studied it in detail?" Mahariel asked curiously, deciding to focus on the more direct topic. She wasn't used to humans having any interest in the subject. She herself had tended more toward combat, toward preserving her society, rather than learning the intricate details of the past. Now that she had no contact with her clan she wondered if she had made a grave mistake in letting it all slip past her.

"I have," Morrigan admitted. "'Tis most helpful in learning magic. Much of what the Circles teach is unknowingly based on old elvhen lore to my understanding. My own abilities, shape-shifting, have their roots in what the ancient elvhen could do, as you well know."

"We have something similar but your own abilities are truly remarkable, Morrigan."

Morrigan hummed softly obviously trying to hide how pleased she was by the compliment. Mahariel found it one of her more endearing qualities.

"Tell me what you've learned," Mahariel said. "I miss my people. Perhaps I can teach you something as well."

"A most equitable offer. I would be happy to."

* * *

When Morrigan first asked her to kill her mother, Mahariel thought it was a joke.

It wasn't.

"It's a dangerous thing to attempt," Zevran acknowledged when she'd come to him later seeking out advice. He'd been traveling with them for a while by that point and had become a valued friend. "I would suggest taking another course should one present itself. This Flemeth isn't to be trifled with."

"But Morrigan—"

"She's a formidable witch herself, no? You'd be risking a great deal in an effort to win over her affections." Zevran gave her a knowing look. Perhaps it was his training as an assassin but he often seemed to understand her better than she did.

In the end, she took Zevran's advice and made a deal with Flemeth. She wondered at the pain in Flemeth's voice and hoped that Morrigan had misunderstood her mother for the sake of everyone involved.

When she returned the grimoire to Morrigan's eager hands she had to resist flinching at the awe and gratitude in Morrigan's voice. The acknowledgment of their friendship afterwards pierced Mahariel to her core. She knew how hard these words were for her and she knew that she didn't truly deserve it.

When she walked away from Morrigan's section of camp to her own she pointedly refused to make eye contact with Zevran. She wondered if she would find compassion there or derision. She didn't know which would hurt more.

Mahariel owed Morrigan more than she'd ever be able to repay. She had singlehandedly saved Mahariel's and Alistair's lives. She was one of the few people Mahariel felt she could talk to about anything. She was a treasured friend.

 _But she still left_ , Mahariel couldn't help but think bitterly. She tried to bury herself in more and more work in an effort to forget that she didn't even know if Morrigan was still alive or whether she had successfully given birth to her child. It was a sadness that lingered but Mahariel was getting exceptionally good at sectioning her various disappointments away.

 **Leliana**

Mahariel had never been a great fan of the Chantry or human religion more generally, so she had been wary of Leliana's claims and taken aback by her eccentric ways. Even so, she was amused by this strange woman and had quickly invited her to join them. If nothing else, she figured Leliana might be a good friend for Alistair.

She quickly learned she had misjudged Leliana in more ways than one. Leliana was, indeed, a Chantry sister and a devout woman who didn't really "get" elvhen issues but she was also willing to admit when she was wrong and took Mahariel's sharp words with good grace. Mahariel had even grudgingly apologized herself.

"I know you meant well, Leliana. It's just … hard to hear these things with such frequency."

"No, no. I am the one who must apologize. It never occurred to me how little I know of your people. It's something I'll have to pay more attention to from now on."

It turned out Leliana was a bard as well as a Chantry sister. It was not a combination she would have ever thought to put together herself. Still, Leliana enjoyed telling stories and Mahariel liked listening to them; it was so similar to what her own people did. She thought that was all the term meant at first—Leliana was a storyteller.

It required a bit of explaining on Leliana's part but Mahariel eventually put it together: Leliana was an assassin and by the sound of it, quite a good one.

Mahariel had mixed feelings on the subject. The Dalish revered life but understood necessity sometimes required hard choices. Certainly her own clan hadn't been made of pacifists. But assassination wasn't something that ever happened among the Dalish. Perhaps it was because there were so few of them to begin with.

Ultimately she decided to view Leliana's background as a boon and she spent more time inquiring after Leliana's skills, making a point not to think too hard about how she got those skills. Eventually, laughing a little, Leliana asked if perhaps she would simply like to be taught? Mahariel agreed eagerly and they spent many days and nights discussing technique. The differences in blending in around a city versus a forest were especially fascinating to Mahariel, who still found cities bizarre constructs.

"Someday I will have to take you to Orlais," Leliana said with a flirtatious twinkle in her eye. "I think you would look marvelous in one of our dresses. And the _shoes…_ "

Mahariel just chuckled and said she would enjoy seeing her homeland. If she were honest, the thought of seeing such a grand city filled her with apprehension but she thought she might be able to manage it if Leliana came with.

* * *

When they met Zevran Mahariel's tolerance for having assassins in her midst was put to the ultimate test. Zevran had definitely murdered in cold blood; he'd tried to murder _her_ in cold blood. He also had very few qualms about admitting to it; it was a job after all. No hard feelings.

It was jarring; Zevran was a fellow elf but he'd been raised with a radically different set of morals from her own. She turned to Leliana uncertainly. Did she feel the same way Zevran did?

Even so, she'd had very little hesitation about inviting him along. She found she didn't want him to die and she didn't want revenge. Tamlen would have definitely disapproved.

Mahariel hoped he would be a good friend for Leliana. Perhaps the two would find a kindred spirit in one another. She was only partially correct. They had a lot to talk about certainly but they were also hell bent on arguing over everything including the Chantry and the best way to kill someone.

 _Why me?_ It wasn't the first time she wondered and it was unlikely to be the last. Mahariel did her best to side-step any issues between the two and called it a day.

When Marjorlaine made herself known Mahariel urged compassion. Leliana was a Chantry sister, she was _changed._ The thought of her losing that special spark was too much, especially after so much had changed between her and Alistair. With one ill thought out sentence she had laid seed to a darkness in him that refused to lift. It horrified her that the darkness growing in her own heart was capable of spreading. He no longer told jokes to the same degree and seemed resigned to something. No, she couldn't let the same happen to Leliana, too.

Afterwards, when they were back in camp, Leliana had embraced her and given her a peck on both cheeks. Mahariel had simply blinked in confusion. She never could tell if Leliana's people were simply overly affectionate or if she was missing something obvious.

"Thank you. I don't know what would have happened if I had killed Marjorlaine. I don't know if she is truly gone but for now… Well, let's continue on our adventure, shall we?"

Mahariel didn't need to be told twice. Her mission as a Grey Warden was never far from her mind now. She didn't mention it to Leliana; she was just glad she'd finally helped someone in her group beyond a shadow of doubt.

 **Sten**

If someone had told her she'd someday become fast friends with a man who had murdered an entire family in cold blood she would have seen red. Things had changed to the point that now she simply accepted that this was what her life was and it included a lot of amicable murderers.

Sten was actually a fairly wise man in her opinion and sincerely regretted his actions. Mahariel admitted she wasn't altogether familiar with the Qun, so she and Sten discussed it throughout their travels. He wasn't much of a talker but he was a solid presence at her side and she felt more assured having him there.

When she was given a chance to help him regain himself by finding his sword she gladly took it. It cemented something between them that neither could fully explain but it made her smile nonetheless.

* * *

Zevran stood at her side, a silent guardian. It was bright and sunny out. They had both come to wish Sten well on his journey home. The sails of the boat rippled gently in the breeze behind him. He was dressed in what Mahariel assumed was traditional Qunari armor.

Zevran wasn't as close to Sten as she was but even he had been disappointed to hear he was leaving. "He is so much fun to tease. It's hard to tell, but he likes it," Zevran said by way of explanation.

"I wish I could come with you," Mahariel sighed. Everyone was leaving her and while she was trying not to take it personally she had hoped more tied them all together than the Blight.

"As do I. But you have your duties. The Qun would approve of someone pursuing that so diligently."

"I thought you said the Qun didn't let women be warriors?" Mahariel teased.

"You are … something of an enigma. You're more a force of nature than a person."

"A more fitting description of my warden I have never heard," Zevran chuckled. "Never change, my dear."

If Sten were the sort to indulge, Mahariel felt certain he would have rolled his eyes. Mahariel knew he was fond of Zevran in his own way but Zevran was yet another conundrum for the man. He turned back toward Mahariel , gentleness in his eyes.

"I pray we never meet on the battlefield. I will remember our friendship across the sea."

It was possibly the greatest compliment Sten had ever paid her.

 **Oghren**

Somehow, and Mahriel really didn't know how, she'd ended up with a drunken dwarf on her hands. Permanently. Why he wanted to travel with her after she'd been forced to murder his wife she really didn't know. Why he wanted her to play his "wingman" was even more mysterious.

While she had her misgivings, Mahariel found that she hoped things worked out between Oghren and Felsi. Part of her felt bad for Felsi but she seemed to genuinely care for Oghren. Maybe that would be enough.

In Mahariel's experience it usually wasn't but she was trying to stamp down on her eternal well of pessimism.

* * *

"You're an odd one. Even for an elf," Oghren slurred.

"Am I now?" she sighed. They'd been talking for the last thirty minutes and already she was losing track of what, exactly, they were talking about.

"Yeah. You fling yourself into battle like you were born to it but you're squeamish about other people's violent pasts. Doesn't that seem strange to you?"

Oghren was actually making sense. Gods help her.

"I don't want to hear about my friends suffering." It was sidestepping the issue and Mahariel knew it but she didn't want to admit that, sometimes, her friends really did make her a little uncomfortable.

He snorted, unimpressed. "If you want to understand them you have to take them as they are. Don't be a coward. Be the warrior you are on the field." He promptly passed out after that but she considered his words carefully. She'd been terribly unsure of where she stood in relation to her comrades lately. She was the leader, clearly, and she was comfortable in battle-more and more it was the only place she was comfortable and that was definitely something she'd avoided confronting-but knowing how to respond to everyone's radically different backgrounds, remembering what to say to whom, it was a constant dance she was forced into and it was tiring.

But Oghren had a good point. She was treating it like … like politics. But these were people. Her people. Dare she think it: they were her clan at this point.

She had to be better than this.

Even though she was next to the fire she felt cold.

 **Wynne**

It was nighttime in camp and they were all resting after a long, arduous battle in the Circle. Mahariel was having a hard time remembering the last time she'd been so tired. The edges of her vision were starting to blur but she knew she couldn't go to bed just yet. As the leader she had to make sure everyone else was all right first, which in her book meant taking first watch. She also knew that if she didn't take first watch she probably wouldn't be taking any other watch; she planned on sleeping like a log as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

She silently cursed Alistair for landing her in this position once more before she meandered about the perimeter of camp once more. She didn't have to wander around but she knew if she didn't she'd probably fall asleep standing up.

She started when she heard a twig snap behind her. A dagger was in her hand and she was spinning around to meet the intruder without any conscious thought. Her hand stilled as she realized it was Wynne whom she had met earlier that day. Had it only been a day? Time in the Beyond made everything blur together without meaning.

"What are you doing?" Mahariel hissed. "I could have hurt you!"

"I may be an old woman but I'm not that hapless." She sounded annoyed but her eyes softened at Mahariel's stance. "Still, I didn't mean to startle you. I find I'm unable to sleep and I wished to converse with you, if I may."

Mahariel finally lowered the dagger, feeling self-conscious.

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

It turned out Wynne simply wanted to make sure _Mahariel_ was doing all right. It had been so long since Mahariel had experienced maternal concern aimed at her it left her utterly flabbergasted.

Once Wynne decided she wasn't going to go berserk over what she'd experienced in the Fade she took her leave, reminding her that she was always there for her if she needed her.

It hurt a bit to know that she was concerning her comrades but she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her feel a little better as well.

 **Shale**

Shale's tolerance began with silence and ended with birds, Mahariel quickly learned. Morrigan found the addition of a golem to their party fascinating from a scholarly standpoint but Mahariel suspected she wasn't pleased outside of that. Zevran had been delighted. She was often mystified by the things that brought Zevran joy but she was pleased to have Shale traveling with them and said nothing further about it.

"What do you think? Do I not glow radiantly like this?"

Mahariel would never again think vanity was reserved for people of flesh and bone. She hadn't even known it was something she had thought until she met Shale.

"You're stunning, Shale," she replied. She supposed it was true as well. The glowing gems she had added to herself were quite lovely and there was something to be said about traveling with someone who could intimidate passersby with a single look, not to mention she had the raw, physical strength to back it up.

Moya barked in agreement.

"That dog of yours is repulsive," Shale said idly. "But it has good taste." Moya shook its tail slowly as though uncertain of whether that was a compliment or not.

* * *

When Shale and Wynne announced they'd be traveling to Tevinter together to look for a way to restore Shale's dwarven body Mahariel had been shocked into silence. When had those two become friends? Were they friends? Was this simply the spirit of wisdom's desire to attain new knowledge?

Her mind was running a mile a minute before she felt a hand on her shoulder and heard Zevran say, "That sounds like quite an adventure. A pity we cannot join you right away."

 _We._ Mahariel felt a thrill at the word that could have been embarrassing if she didn't know it brought Zevran an equal amount of joy.

"Will the two of you be gone long?" Mahariel finally managed to say. Perhaps it didn't matter when the two had become friends. What did matter was that they'd be keeping each other company. Mahariel had learned that the value of friendship, of someone willing to stay by your side, no matter the reason, wasn't something that could be measured.

"It's difficult to say," Wynne admitted. "I don't even know how much time I have left. But I think we should be able to find something. Tevinter is quite open to all manner of magic." Her expression darkened briefly but she shook her head slightly and continued. "There will be much to do but I am hopeful."

"I have no fear of Tevinter," Shale said brusquely. "But I feel as though my dwarven self would have wanted to remain as such. I am simply curious to see if it is even possible."

"Of course. I wish you both the best of luck. Let us meet again someday."

"Unless I become a dwarf I will live long past you."

"I think Shale is trying to say this won't be a long goodbye," Wynne corrected gently. "I hope to see you again soon as well, Warden."

 **Zevran**

An oath of loyalty. Mahariel wasn't sure what to make of that. Likewise, she wasn't sure what to make of Zevran. He'd tried to kill her but with all the things that were trying to kill her on a daily basis she couldn't find it in herself to hold a grudge. Furthermore, he was a lot more … talkative than most of her opponents. Far more graceful in defeat as well. And handsome.

She crushed that last thought with an iron fist. It had just been awhile since she'd seen a fellow elf that was all. Zevran's looks were completely average. Tolerable.

Completely breathtaking.

"Why?" She wailed plaintively as she buried her face in her hands. She was sitting on a log in front of the fire. She didn't have privacy. She was steadfastly ignoring the weird look Alistair was giving her. She couldn't make sense of this onslaught of feeling. They'd barely even _spoken_ to each other.

Furthermore, he flirted with anything that moved aside from her. It figured she would face a silent rejection once more. She tried not to think of Morrigan that way; she was a treasured friend but sometimes it was hard.

Either way, why would she want the attention of a man with such loose morals? Preposterous.

It didn't make the feeling go away though.

* * *

"He is handsome, you know," Leliana said abruptly one day as they scouted ahead. Mahariel almost tripped over a root winding its way across the road.

"Who?" she stammered, trying to make it look like she'd tripped on purpose. She didn't succeed.

"Zevran, of course," Leliana laughed. "I see the looks."

"Looks?" Was that her voice? Why was it so high pitched?

"Well, I suppose it's more him looking at you. You avoid him at every opportunity." Leliana looked her up and down. "Does he repulse you? I suppose that would make sense all things considered but you invited him to come along, so I didn't think it would be a problem." Leliana's eyes were locked onto her and Mahariel knew there would be no escape.

Leliana was in storyteller mode and she wouldn't rest until she had all the pieces in place for future songs. It would have been flattering if it wasn't so misguided.

"Zevran isn't looking at me, Leliana." She kept the bitterness out of her voice but only barely. "At least not like that." _I'm the leader and everyone does that_ went unsaid but it was heavy in the air.

"I spared his life, so I'm sure he's grateful but that's all it is."

Leliana shook her head slightly and then aimed and notched her bow with an ease that only came from diligent practice. When she released it a deer fell immediately; it would do well in the questionable stew Alistair liked to make. Finally, Leliana looked back at her as though there hadn't been a single pause in their conversation.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. Maybe you should try looking back."

* * *

Ultimately, she decided to take Leliana's advice. It wasn't easy; she'd spent a lot of time trying to avoid Zevran in an effort to avoid making herself a fool but when she finally did she realized that Zevran did look at her differently than everyone else. He still flirted with everyone as much as usual but she noticed that his eyes would slip away toward her even as he did so. She was unsure of what to make of it. He was normally a surreally straightforward person toward anyone he was interested in. If he wasn't saying anything, didn't that mean there was nothing to say?

She considered asking him about it but it occurred to her she hadn't even attempted to get to know him in any shape or form. Asking him about a "look" would be the height of arrogance.

So when she walked up to him while he was patrolling the camp she ignored the aura of expectation radiating from him and instead said, "Tell me about yourself."

They stared at each other for a moment, neither of them saying anything, until Zevran finally started to laugh.

"You looked so serious! That's it? I suppose I can follow such an order."

It was said teasingly but Mahariel flushed in horror. "I'm sorry, I—it's not an order. I meant that I'd like to know more about you. If you're willing." Why couldn't she have just said that in the first place?

"Well, well, something about myself, hm? What would you like to know?"

"You worked with the Crows. What did you learn there?" It wasn't an overly personal question she hoped but it wasn't devoid of anything meaningful either.

Once the conversation got going Mahariel was amazed at just how easy it actually was to talk to Zevran. He had all manner of anecdotes and was equally interested in her thoughts on a variety of things as well.

 _This man is an assassin?_ She found it hard to believe even with his descriptions of the missions he'd gone on. It occurred to her that he was probably only telling her about his milder assignments to put her at ease. The stories put him in a poor light as far as his success rate went but he ultimately made little reference to blood and gore. Mahariel found she was a little frustrated by that. She wasn't an innocent that needed to be spared the grisly details of life. Oghren was right; she needed to accept people for who they were. She wanted to accept Zevran.

Even so, she didn't have the heart to demand a more truthful account of his time as an assassin. It seemed like it would be … rude. Maybe he'd open up to her about it some other time.

* * *

"You're a member of the Dalish, are you not?"

It was the first time Zevran had pried into anything resembling personal information. They were currently situated under a large oak. It was a peaceful moment, something that was becoming increasingly rare.

"That's right," she acknowledged. "Why?"

"It's just that we are currently in a Dalish camp and you fit in so well. I had to know for sure." He hesitated a moment. "My mother was of the Dalish as well."

Now that was interesting. Zevran had never mentioned family before. She had assumed the Crows were his family. A highly dysfunctional one but still.

"What was she like?"

"I am not sure," Zevran sighed. "I used to have a pair of her gloves. They were beautiful. I always imagined she was as lovely as the gloves themselves." He told her a bit more about how she had died and how he had been raised by prostitutes. The story made her uncomfortable; Zevran had done absolutely nothing to deserve such a fate and yet it was bestowed upon him indiscriminately.

"Now you look worried, my Grey Warden. What is wrong?" A few elves passed by and eyed them curiously. Mahariel ignored them.

"What happened to you is terrible but you talk about it like it's nothing," she said lowly. She had forgotten how much Dalish clans liked to gossip. Well, they were such tight knit groups she supposed it wasn't surprising. Something new was something that had to be discussed at length and for weeks at a time. She'd never noticed before; her time away had changed her. She valued privacy far more than she ever had before.

Zevran picked at a few nearby flowers. Mahariel couldn't remember what they were called.

"Surely your own life has not been so idyllic? Come now, we can share our sorrows the way friends do." He raised an arm almost tentatively as though he thought she might push him away. It was a surprising gesture, as was the acknowledgment of their friendship, but far from unwelcome.

She leaned into the partial embrace. It was a strange sensation to have his arm around her shoulders. They were both wearing leather armor but it proved to be comfortable regardless. He rested his chin on her head.

It was … nice.

At some point she had stopped feeling nervous around Zevran. She wasn't even entirely sure why it had been such an issue in the first place. She was as charmed by him as ever but now that she knew him it felt realer, stronger. Like something that maybe she could allow herself to have.

"So, what weighs on my warden's mind, hm?"

What indeed. Mahariel could think of an endless list.

"And nothing so obvious as the Blight, my dear."

Well, that removed a great deal of conversing potential and she told him so. He let out a laugh and ran his fingers through her hair affectionately.

"What about our resident Witch of the Wilds?"

Mahariel turned toward him, startled. She hadn't expected him to bring it up. The last time he had mentioned anything related to it had been when she'd brought him along to handle Flemeth.

"She is incredibly beautiful; I can see why you would desire her. She would be fortunate to have one such as you."

"You know that's not possible, Zevran," she said tiredly. She'd been pointedly not thinking about Morrigan, Flemeth, and honesty for a while now.

"And why not?"

"She doesn't feel that way about me."

Zevran considered that briefly. "Would you pursue her then? If your affections were returned?"

"I'm … not sure. I don't think it would be appropriate."

"Appropriate? Whoever cared about something like that?" The outrage in Zevran's voice was enough to illicit a surprised laugh out of her.

"I don't know. Doesn't it seem like fraternization? I'm the one leading our band of misfits after all. I shouldn't muddle it up with things like that."

"I suppose this is why you also haven't pursued Alistair or Leliana, then. What a trail of broken hearts you are leaving in your wake!"

"Alistair … it wouldn't work with Alistair. I care for him but not like that. And Leliana doesn't think that way about me." She said it with more confidence than she felt.

"I'm starting to think you are blind," Zevran said in amusement. "But maybe I shouldn't be so surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mahariel was starting to feel annoyed. Zevran noticed the mood shift and held her a little tighter by way of apology.

"Merely that you underestimate how much you mean to the people around you." She couldn't see his face but he sounded wistful. Was it because of her? Was he remembering someone else? Why was it so hard to understand one elf? Finally he released her and returned to inspecting the flowers.

"My apologies. I said I would listen to your woes and now I am merely expressing my own."

Leliana's words came, unbidden, back to her. _Maybe you should try looking back._

Had she been right? But that would be too good to be true and things rarely went the way Mahariel wanted them to.

"What about you, Zev?" she said carefully. "I'm sure your love life is more interesting than my own."

"My own? Are you sure you wish to know?"

"I asked, didn't I?" Mahariel wasn't in the mood for coyness. If he was going to inquire about her affairs she felt it was only fair to do the same.

"I suppose I have quite a history. It's not restricted merely to women either. Does this bother you?"

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Zevran, how could it?"

"You are better than most, I suspect. Let's see…"

What followed was an interesting tale of how "love" was used in his work as a Crow but Mahariel didn't miss how he left out any story of real attachment. But he was relaxed again, so she figured that whatever had been troubling him had passed. She thought about asking him what he felt toward her but she refrained. She wasn't sure she was ready to know.

She bought some material from one of the merchants afterwards.

"Making anything interesting?"he asked.

"The finest pair of embroidered Dalish gloves I've ever made, hopefully." The merchant nodded encouragingly and she set to work, taking care to ensure Zevran didn't pick up on what she was doing. When she finally presented the gloves to him the look of pure joy on his face left her smiling for days after.

* * *

They ended up sparring together in camp in much the same way she and Leliana had. It was easier with Zevran; they both favored dual wielding blades. Mahariel had been trained to use a bow and arrow, was even quite good at it, but she had always preferred the sword when given an option.

Zevran may have been an assassin like Leliana but she quickly learned the two emphasized different tactics. Leliana liked to blend in plain sight and would purposefully get mixed up in politics. Zevran liked to do things from the shadows and to get things done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Hence all the poisons.

"If you mix these together you'll get an even more lethal dose than you would normally. The look on a person's face after they ingest some is really a sight to behold but … ah, that is not something you need to know." His eyes twinkled teasingly.

"I think I can handle your stories, Zev." Her humor had gotten decidedly darker throughout her journey. "Besides, poisons come more naturally to me, I suppose? I worked with plants for my clan, usually for the sake of healing but we had to learn what not to combine since it would be, well, poisonous. In a way, we were learning how to poison people by default of learning how not to kill someone." Mahariel found that inordinately amusing. Zevran let out a huff of laughter.

"I suppose you make a good point, my dear. Just don't mix up your healing potions with your poisons, hm? That would be most unfortunate."

* * *

"Do you look at everyone that way?"

She finally said it. It had taken weeks but she'd finally asked the question that had been driving her insane ever since Leliana had pointed it out.

The smile on Zevran's face was surprisingly gentle all things considered. "Not everyone. But a beautiful woman like yourself? Why not? You already draw so many stares."

"I—what?"

Zevran shook his head pityingly. Mahariel was disturbed to see how much this conversation was starting to resemble the one she'd had with Leliana about Zevran himself. Was she really so unaware of the people around her?

"But you would prefer I desisted, perhaps? It would be difficult, traveling as we do in close proximity, but I am nothing if not a gentleman."

"Wait, so it does mean something? And weren't you the one who was telling me I shouldn't care about what's appropriate?" she demanded.

"I meant if someone returns your affections, why not pursue it? But I am not the kind of man who would force myself on another," he said sternly. "And the look? Of course it means 'something.' What is so surprising about that?"

Everything, Mahariel wanted to say.

"But I am content with our friendship. It is more than I had hoped for when we first met. To be honest, I rather thought you didn't like me."

Mahariel was shocked into silence once more before exclaiming, "You were the one who didn't like me!" Moya looked up, startled, from its nap. Perhaps they should have moved further away from the camp.

It was Zevran's turn to be silently shocked. Finally, "What on earth are you talking about?"

"You flirted with everyone other than me! You barely spoke to me after you joined and, well, how else was I supposed to take it…." she trailed off. She felt ridiculous.

"You wouldn't even look at me," Zevran finally replied. "I thought that was a clear indication of dislike. You cannot possibly be saying you were just … nervous?" He said the word as if it were a foreign concept. "But you are so strong!" Zevran continued. "Do not tell me the fierce warrior is also a shy maiden." There was a wicked look in his eyes now.

"You're mocking me."

"I am doing no such thing," Zevran insisted. "It is a lovely look on you, though not as lovely as when you sneak up on your enemies and go in for the kill." His eyes glazed over momentarily before continuing. "It's merely … unexpected, my dear. Your face is so cold when you are avoiding someone. How could I have known?"

"You didn't exactly make it obvious yourself, you know."

"Hmm, I suppose. I will have to change all that soon enough. But for now, let us get a move on. Sunrise is just around the corner."

* * *

"Tell me something about yourself," Zevran sighed into her neck.

They were curled together inside Mahariel's tent. Zevran was trailing kisses up and down her neck, his arms firmly wrapped about her.

"I've already told you so much. What else would you like to know?"

"Hmm, how about your name? It's always 'Warden' or 'Mahariel' but one is a title and the other a surname, surely?"

Mahariel shifted so she was facing him and drank in the sight of his face. It was hard to see in the dim lighting but a sliver of moonlight peaked through to offer a little more detail. As usual, he looked absolutely beautiful.

"I don't usually like to go by it," she started hesitantly.

"Rest assured I will only use it to tease you mercilessly in private, if it is amusing enough."

She rolled her eyes affectionately. "It's Mirithie."

Zevran sucked in a breath. "Of course it is a lovely name. I would expect no less for one such as you." He traced the _vallaslin_ on her face. "How did someone like me become so lucky?" he added so quietly Mahariel wondered if she was supposed to hear it. He sounded lost, as though he didn't know what to do with what was blossoming between them. Mahariel felt much the same.

Rather than talk further she raised herself slightly and kissed him firmly, cradling his face in her hands, hoping that would explain it for both of them.

* * *

When she finally saw Tamlen again she was overwrought with emotion. She'd known, or at least suspected, but to see his suffering so pronounced …

It was devastating.

She hid herself away among the trees surrounding their camp, hoping to settle her emotions.

She heard footsteps behind her. They were soft and she knew that if he'd wanted to he could have been so silent she wouldn't have heard him at all. He was making sure she knew he was there.

"What is it, Zev?" she sighed, burying her face in her knees.

Zevran leaned against her side questioningly. She returned the gesture after a moment and he wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm sorry."

He didn't say anything else, didn't pretend to understand the extent of her sorrow.

She buried her face in his shoulder. She'd accepted that around Zevran she didn't have to be the perfect leader and she knew he wouldn't judge her for this.

He simply held her until she felt numb from exhaustion and they returned to camp.

* * *

After the battle with the archdemon and Alistair took the throne and she'd said her goodbyes to her companions she excused herself to a private room that had been reserved for her.

"What is wrong, _mi amora_? You're missing out on the celebrations." She turned around, unsurprised to see Zevran hovering uncertainly at the door. She supposed a regular person wouldn't notice anything was amiss but she now knew Zevran as well as he knew her.

"We won," Mahariel stated plainly. "But even so, there's still so much to be done. I've decided to find new Grey Wardens." She hesitated. "But part of me wonders why _I_ have to do it. I've wondered that ever since I joined. Does that make me selfish? To wish I could shirk my own duty while forcing one upon Alistair?"

"You are far from that," Zevran said, stepping through the door. He glided over to her and wrapped his arms about her waist, giving her a gentle squeeze. "You worry too much for one person. Also, you left me behind; how am I to protect you from the Crows if I lose sight of you, hm?"

"Aren't you the one in need of protection from the Crows?" Mahariel asked wryly.

"Undoubtedly! So let us protect each other. Now, you should really get back to that party of yours. Alistair will come around. Even he knows that sometimes we must do something we detest. If it helps, rest assured I won't force you to face the unwashed masses alone."

Mahariel almost acquiesced but she needed to know something else first.

"It's not just that." Part of her hated herself for having to ask but, "Will you really be able to stay, Zevran?" She could think of a great deal of reasons why he wouldn't be able to despite his best intentions. She could also see any number of things taking her away as well, not least of which was the taint running through her veins.

He lifted his hand and fiddled with the earring she now wore. It was one of her most cherished belongings. She knew that it represented, in a unique way, Zevran's old ties to the Crows and the lovers and friends he had made there. He was willing to share all of that with her. It was a heady sensation to know someone trusted her with their everything.

"I know I didn't say it when I gave this to you but …" he hesitated. "You mean the world to me. There is no place I would rather be than at your side. Should we ever part, it would only be temporarily. You know I adore you too much for it to be forever."

There was only one response to be made to that. "I love you, Zev."

"And I you. So let us find those Grey Wardens! Let us have magnificent adventures. You saved the world and lived to tell the tale; I think you can endure a little party." He spun her around in an imitation of a dance and the world seemed a little better for it.

"All right, all right. Let's head out."

She felt lighter than she had for some time. She could admit to herself now that while things weren't perfect they were still closer to it than she'd ever thought she would get.

When she rejoined the party she didn't even notice the bitterness in Alistair's eyes or Morrigan's absence. She just let herself absorb the good mood of the room and dined on the food and wine Zevran kept fetching for both of them. Afterwards they slept in an actual bed and dreamed the dreams of heroes.


	2. Awakening

**Mahariel**

The keep loomed before her, dark and ominous, and she felt as though she were facing the archdemon once more.

Don't be ridiculous, she chastised herself. The archdemon was by far the worse of the two. But seeing Mhairi's ignorant faith in her abilities, the hero worship, made her feel like a fraud. Yes, she had saved Ferelden from the Blight. No, she hadn't done it singlehandedly in a blaze of glory enwrapped in the golden light of the Maker.

She didn't even believe in the Maker. She had her own gods and she wasn't even sure they had helped all that much.

The battle had been agonizingly intense. She remembered the battle cries of Alistair, the chill of Morrigan's magic, and the fear in Zevran's eyes when she had flung herself at the beast in a final mad attempt at victory even as he sliced through yet another darkspawn.

It had worked though.

That hadn't stopped Zevran from worrying over her incessantly afterwards though.

Regardless, now she faced a challenge of a new kind: the aftermath. There were reports of straggling bands of darkspawn throughout Ferelden and she intended to root them out and cleanse the world until the next Blight at the very least.

She'd told Zevran that she planned to seek out new Grey Wardens and that was true. It was why she was clearing darkspawn out of this keep in the first place. But she'd be lying if she claimed she wasn't hoping for some kind of absolution as well. She wasn't sure she knew how to live life as a normal person anymore and the only way she knew how to make up for the pain and suffering her comrades had endured was by ensuring nothing else ever threatened them. Was it a realistic goal? Probably not, but she would fight for it tooth and nail.

Unfortunately, her fear that Zevran wouldn't be able to come with her had proven all too true. He'd been able to stick around for a little while; he'd even helped get her in contact with other preexisting Grey Wardens and had been instrumental in getting the right people to consider her for Warden-Commander of Ferelden. It hadn't taken much convincing, in fairness, but Mahariel hadn't had the willpower for politics and Zevran all but lived and breathed the stuff. It was from an Antivan Crow perspective more than a politician's, but still.

Unfortunately, it turned out his connections to the Crows were even more troublesome than they'd thought. After the fifth assassination attempt, this time with poison in the wine, Zevran had had enough. He'd had an antidote for the poison on his person; Zevran was intimately familiar with making poisons and, as such, repelling them, and his paranoia had only increased with time.

"They will target you soon enough. As it turns out, I don't blend in terribly well when I'm the known lover of the Hero of Ferelden. Your fame, while deserved, doesn't suit those who prefer the shadows, does it, mi amora?"

Someone unfamiliar with the two of them would have thought he meant himself but Mahariel and Zevran were two peas in a pod when it came to a preference for espionage over overt confrontation and they both despised the spotlight. Mahariel reluctantly accepted she would probably never have true privacy from here on out but assassination attempts were a real concern and rather draining on them both. Ultimately, it was agreed Zevran would travel to Antiva and see what he might do about the Crows there and Mahariel would continue on with her mission as Warden-Commander.

While it still hurt a bit not to have him at her side, she knew he would return. She kept his letter close to her heart.

She'd never fully embraced the role of leadership when she'd been leading during the Blight, had even resented it frequently, but now she was ready. Someone had to be and, like it or not, that someone had to be her.

She blended into the shadows and sliced the head of a darkspawn clean off its head. Blood splattered onto her face. She heard shouting from ahead. Judging by the tense way Mhairi was gripping her sword she heard it as well.

"Let's go," Mahariel commanded. If there were still living people in the keep they needed to be saved.

 **Anders**

Mahariel had no idea what to make of Anders but she had sympathy for his plight. She'd never understood the Chantry's need for Circles. The Dalish had always felt it was a blessing for one of their own to have the gifts of magic. Mahariel had always been a little disappointed she would never be able to shoot a bolt of lightning from her fingertips but she'd made peace with it. Perhaps it was for the best. People were already uncomfortable with the thought of an elf in charge of a human domain, Hero of Ferelden or not. If she'd been a mage to boot they might have started seeing red.

So when Rylock said Anders was a known criminal who had to be taken prisoner, Mahariel had just laughed. Criminals were basically her purview and the look on Alistair's face meant he knew exactly how this was about to go. Anders's mouth was agape.

"Well, I'm glad you're finding the humor in all this," he sputtered.

"Relax," Mahariel finally managed to say. Rylock's face was red with fury. She seemed to have realized she wasn't about to get much sympathy from the Warden-Commander.

"You're not taking him," Mahariel continued.

"She's not?" Mahariel could hear the tentative hope in his voice. What have these people done to you?

"No, she's not."

"Look, maybe we shouldn't let rebel mages run around freely," Alistair tried.

"Oh, you mean like Morrigan?"

"Ye—no, I don't know. Come on, Mahariel, you know I can't just start changing everything in the kingdom. People are already debating whether it was wise to give the Dalish that section of land." He shifted. It was a far subtler indication of his consternation than what he used to give. She felt a twinge of regret once more.

"Then in that case, I would like to conscript him."

"What?" Rylock cried. Anders echoed her sentiment though there was less rage and more awe. Alistair merely looked thoughtful.

"I daresay that would solve everything," he admitted. He looked relieved. "You have my permission to do so. Good luck to you … Anders? Yes, we need more Grey Wardens. It's a great honor."

"Thank you, your majesty," Anders said hesitantly.

"Thanks, Alistair," Mahariel added with more familiarity than the templars seemed to find comfortable judging by how twitchy they were getting. She just smiled to herself. Alistair was her friend, regardless of whatever issues they were having. She wasn't about to act subservient around him.

Alistair waived Rylock and her team away before stepping a bit closer to her. She looked at him curiously. It had been awhile since they'd really spoken to one another.

"Look, I just want to say that I appreciate all that you're doing. I know we traded some harsh words and I regret that. I'm still not sure how to be king if I'm totally honest but I suppose that's why Anora is there," he chuckled awkwardly. "But despite what I said, I'm glad at least one of us gets to stay in the field. I'll admit I wish it were me but … well, that's all. Keep me updated, will you?"

"Of course, Alistair. And I am sorry, you know. For ... everything."

"What, even saving us all from the Blight? I thought that part was rather nice, actually." He gave her a quick wink. She elbowed him. For once, things almost felt normal between the two, the way things were before his spirit had been crushed a little and he'd been forced to take a responsibility he'd never wanted. That made two of them, she supposed.

They bid each other goodbye and Mahariel turned to face the keep. She was confronted by Anders who was looking enormously uncomfortable and Mhairi whose face was impossible to discern under the helmet she wore. Right, she'd nearly forgotten them. She immediately felt shame. She shouldn't be forgetting her own recruits so swiftly; they were devoting their lives, even their deaths, to the cause whether they knew it or not.

"Right, well, let's get inside, shall we? Hopefully this place is a little more comfortable without our unwelcome house guests." It elicited a small chuckle from Anders but Mhairi said nothing at all.

* * *

Anders was a little on the skittish side, she quickly learned. He also had a tendency of looking at everything as though he'd never seen it before, especially anything outdoors. It made her heart ache a little. What horrors had he faced that a mere tree could bring him so close to tears? She made it a point to bring him little trinkets of the outside world in an effort to help him build a little confidence. He pretended to have a well of it but Mahariel was good at seeing through such facades. She wore a similar one herself.

On one particular day she brought him a kitten. Part of her knew that having a pet in the Grey Wardens was insane but another, better part of her figured that if there was a way to bring joy in someone's life it should be taken. And Anders needed a cat, she was sure of it.

"Can I talk to you?" He looked at her with vague suspicion. She was well aware that he still had "issues" with authority figures and she was certainly one of those in his eyes. It probably didn't help she was carrying a bundle of towels. It was to dry the cat from the constant rain but he didn't know that yet.

"Of course you can!" he said lightly. It was a glaring contradiction to his general posture.

"Good, I have something for you." She lifted one of the towels away, revealing the sleeping kitten underneath.

His eyes widened comically and his mouth formed a silent oh.

"Is that for me?" he whispered, hesitantly reaching his hands out.

She allowed a smile and placed the cat in his eager arms. It stirred slightly and looked up, clearly wanting to go back to bed.

"Oh, you are perfect," Anders continued, scratching it behind its ears. "I'll name you Ser Pounce-a-lot. Would you like that?" It mewed softly and Anders looked as though the gates of heaven had just opened up before him.

"So … do you like it?" Mahariel finally said teasingly.

"I do. Thank you, Warden-Commander." His eyes were gentle and had yet to leave the kitten in his arms.

She left him to it and relished the warmth that had filled her heart. Do good just for the sake of doing it. It was something she had been raised to believe in but she hadn't had much opportunity to put it to action. It eased something inside her to finally be able to make someone happy in a simple way, especially for one who had clearly suffered so much.

* * *

Zevran had insisted he train her in "social skills." He'd said that while she was an excellent tactician and leader on the battlefield she was clearly lacking insight on the mortal heart. She'd thought he was being ridiculous until he'd pointed out that not only had she missed his own interest in her, she had also missed Leliana's, and hadn't thought much of Alistair's either in her single-minded pursuit (if her floundering could even be labeled as such) of Morrigan.

"It's a charming trait but you will be in a whole new environment as Warden-Commander. People won't forgive you your eccentricities in the same way our group did. They will see you purely as a leader of the people and a leader of the people must have insight into those people."

"I've never been much for large groups, Zev, you know that. I don't know how human communities even work, not really."

"I know, my dear. But that is exactly what you will be dealing with on a regular basis. Large swaths of humans who want you to make decisions related to their crops, their homes, and their lives. From what I saw of the Dalish, you consist of small groups who are intimately familiar with everything that goes on with each other. You won't be able to know everyone individually anymore but you must be familiar with people of import and you absolutely cannot be ignorant to their intentions, amorous or otherwise."

He'd said it all fondly and with a touch of regret. But he had given her every bit of insight he had into the political sphere of humans. It had an Antivan slant, he had admitted that readily, but he said it was better than being tossed into the inferno without any prior knowledge. Zevran also acknowledged he wasn't an expert precisely, Leliana would have made a much better teacher he'd said, but since Leliana was traveling and there was no one else to ask that they could trust or who was even available he was prepared to play tutor.

Not a day went by that Mahariel wasn't grateful Zevran had taken the time to impart his knowledge to her. It had proven useful in all manner of situations. She'd been immediately thrust into the political sphere as leader and would have been utterly overwhelmed otherwise. Seneschal Varel was, perhaps, her favorite person on the premises due to his calm demeanor and wise words on the subject. He also never questioned why an elf was in charge; he always treated her with respect.

Zevran's lessons turned out to be useful for more mundane things as well, such as picking up those amorous intentions she'd been oblivious to previously. Anders had been warmer toward her and had even told her she was "all right." In the past, she would have merely accepted that as a token of friendship. It definitely wasn't an overt declaration of anything else. But she was paying closer attention to those around her, far closer attention than she ever had before, and she had picked up on the underlying intent.

There were other things, little things, which finally tipped her off. It was the way his smile would look a little less fake when she entered the room, the way he walked a little closer than necessary during missions, as though he were afraid she would be hurt or, more likely, that she would abandon him if he strayed too far.

It didn't bother her though, and it seemed unlikely that Anders would push things. Anders was terrified of being rejected by the wardens, she knew, and was even more terrified of being returned to the Circle. So, ultimately, she let it be. Anders saw her as the Warden-Commander first and foremost-it was all he ever called her. She suspected he saw her as something of a savior. She wondered if being given a death sentence really qualified as being saved. But Anders valued freedom more than life itself and he seemed to hold no bitterness toward the order.

He could make a fine warden if he decided to dedicate himself to it, she thought. But Anders was a free spirit and part of her knew that if she left before he'd formed any strong bonds with the other members there would be nothing to keep him here. So far she suspected Nathaniel would be the best candidate for the job. Anders seemed to enjoy teasing him, might even be interested in him in a more than friendly way. Certainly Nathaniel would be a better fit for Anders than she would. But Anders only ever spoke of an attraction to women and Nathaniel spoke of it not at all, so she didn't make any move to nudge them together.

 **Oghren**

"Well, look who it is!"

Look who it is, indeed, Mahariel had thought wryly.

Of all the people she'd expected to meet up with at the keep, Oghren had been pretty far down the list of candidates. Even so, there hadn't been time to catch up as they were still clearing out all the darkspawn. She had to admit that it was nice to have Oghren's fighting prowess on her side once more. For all his flaws, wielding a giant battleaxe wasn't one of them.

He laughed wildly as he spun in a fast circle, taking five darkspawn with him in one fell swoop.

Yes, it was definitely nice to see Oghren again.

* * *

It definitely was not nice to see Oghren again.

"What do you mean you left Felsi?" she cried. She'd worked hard to get that to work for him!

"Hey! Don't you be givin' me that. I didn't come here to hear you get on my case. I came here to take out darkspawn. What's so wrong with that?"

He let out a loud belch. Whoever installed the giant barrel of ale in the main hall needed a severe talking to. Oghren had yet to move away from it despite being given perfectly comfortable quarters higher up in the keep.

"Nothing is wrong with that," Mahariel sighed in frustration. "I just thought you wanted to be with her? Why else was I playing your wingman?"

"Turns out married life ain't for me. Who knew?" He refused to say anything else on the subject.

* * *

She and Oghren had never been particularly close. Mahariel knew that. But he had also returned to her when no one else had. Perhaps that made him her most loyal friend. It was a concerning thought but she had to admit she did care for the grouchy dwarf and the advice he'd given her had proven invaluable. She'd finally allowed herself to really look at those around her, see all the facets of their personalities, and realized it wasn't so terrible, not really. She wondered if she'd ever have been able to love Zevran if she'd refused to accept everything about him.

So if nothing else, she desired to help Oghren sort things out. The problem was that she had no idea how. With Anders it had been easy. Some gifts, some kind words, and the acknowledgment that she wasn't going to force him to stay against his will was all he'd needed. But Oghren didn't really want anything. He drank himself into a stupor every night and became incredibly evasive the moment she tried to get him to talk about anything really meaningful. The few times he reached out to her she managed to say the wrong thing and he clamped up once more.

She'd asked Sigrun for advice and she had just let out a laugh. "That's a man who thinks he'd be better off dead but doesn't really desire it. So instead he drinks to forget but can't manage to do that either. What a mess, huh?"

"Maybe," Mahariel acknowledged. But he was no more a mess than everyone else. Not really. Somehow, and she wasn't sure how, she'd managed to piece together a group that was just as odd, if not odder, than the group she'd formed before. She hadn't given up on anyone in her old group; she wouldn't give up on anyone here, Oghren included.

* * *

She started taking Oghren with her on adventures with more frequency. He seemed more relaxed, more alive, on the battlefield anyway, and it prevented him from drinking to the same extent as he would otherwise. Mahariel was certain that he must have noticed the difference but he spent most of his time teasing Anders and riling Velanna up, so she couldn't say for sure.

When they returned it was to Felsi waiting at the keep. Mahariel tried desperately to stay out of the conversation but she ended up pointing out Oghren's good side to her. She hadn't been impressed but Oghren had appreciated the support. Mahariel had seen the tired look in Felsi's eyes though and she knew that enough was enough.

She cornered Oghren later that night at the tavern in the keep. She was consistently amazed at how large the inside of the keep actually was. The tavern was warm and inviting and had she been looking merely to relax she would have enjoyed the environment quite a bit. It wasn't too loud and the way the firelight flickered off the stone of the walls reminded her of the taverns she and Zevran had conversed in when they'd been traveling together.

She finally spotted Oghren downing some ale at one of the tables in the corner of the room. From what she could make out of his over enthusiastic gestures he was exchanging battle stories with Nathaniel and Sigrun both of whom seemed unsure if they were having a good time or not.

Mahariel strolled over, tried to look casual, and crossed her arms from where she stood at Oghren's side. Judging by the way Nathaniel hastily finished his drink and excused himself she hadn't managed the look. Perhaps being Warden-Commander was becoming more ingrained in her than she realized. Oghren was obviously annoyed at the loss of one of his listeners.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" he demanded with a slur.

"I'm in no mood to hear this conversation," Nathaniel muttered.

Sigrun raised an eyebrow at Mahariel. "Something we should know about?" she asked.

"Not at the moment," Mahariel replied. "I just need to speak with Oghren for a bit."

Oghren groaned and turned around. "No wonder that little blighter ran off. What did I do now?"

Sigrun rolled her eyes and excused herself. Apparently she wasn't interested in hearing "this" conversation either. Mahariel wondered just what the two of them thought she was about to say to him. She made a mental note to look into that more later on.

"We need to talk, Oghren," Mahariel finally said. "You've been here for a while but you have yet to actually tell me what is going on. I'm glad you joined the wardens but don't ask me to believe it was simply out of the goodness of your heart."

Oghren growled and chugged a bit more of his ale in response. Finally, "All right, you want to talk so bad you may as well take a damn seat."

Mahariel obliged and sat across from him. She refused the mug Oghren pushed toward her with a short shake of her head.

"You're different," Oghren grumbled. "Last time we traveled together you didn't give a fig about what I did or why. What's with the sudden change of heart?"

"That's not true and you know it. I just wasn't as persistent back then as I am now. Defeating an archdemon has a way of changing you, so don't start deflecting on me."

"Yeah, well, I think it's just that elf of yours isn't around anymore."

"Or maybe I just took your advice." She refused to let Oghren rile her up. If she let that happen the conversation was over and the whole point of starting it would be moot.

"What advice?" He looked outraged. He was probably trying to figure out what advice of his could backfire on him so stupendously.

"To accept people for what they are. To look past what they present to you. It was good advice and I've learned a lot from it. If you don't like the way I've changed, well, isn't that partly your fault?" She locked eyes with him.

"I never told you any of that."

"Maybe not in those words precisely but that's how I interpreted it."

"Whatever. What do you want so bad that you're waxing poetry at me anyway?"

She sighed. He really could be fantastically stubborn when he wanted to be.

"I told you already. Why are you here? You have a wife and child. Felsi is angry with you but she obviously still cares enough to come track you down. Why are you avoiding her?"

Oghren's fingers were twitching slightly and he gripped his mug tighter. His mouth was a thin line of anger but she sensed there was something more to it than that.

"I dropped our kid. Twice." He finally admitted. "I'm not just a lousy husband, I'm a lousy father. What I'm good at is killing. You know that. But I don't want that kid dead. Not because of me. That's why I'm here. Happy now?"

"Far from it. Yes, you are good at killing but that doesn't have to be the only thing you're good at." He snorted.

"I think you need to follow your own advice," Mahariel finally said once the silence had extended for far too long. Oghren eyed her warily. "You said it was strange that I flung myself into battle but that I was squeamish about people's violent pasts. I'm starting to think you're squeamish about your own. You can't afford that. You have to face it head on and see that you are capable of good as well."

"How will facing my own demons make me a better person?" He wasn't even drinking his ale anymore. "All that's done is made me realize I'm damn good at killing. There isn't anything good to take from that."

"I'm damn good at killing, too. But I'm still trying to do good even though I frequently don't succeed. But I'm not allowed an out just because of that. Are you?"

"I'm not drunk enough for this," Oghren sighed. "Fine. You want me to talk to Felsi then? Is that it?" Mahariel nodded. He shook his head in defeat.

She made arrangements for Felsi to visit before going to bed.

* * *

"I'm surprised he's still here," Nathaniel admitted to Mahariel one day while they were training together. Nathaniel had asked for some practice with the blade to balance out his repertoire.

"Who do you mean?"

"Oghren."

Mahariel remembered Nathaniel's and Sigrun's comments from before.

"You thought I was going to send him away?" she said in surprise.

"I like Oghren. Mostly. But even I would have understood why you might not want him around. The way he talks to people…" Nathaniel scrunched his nose in disgust.

"I know. Maybe I should have but…"

"You see the best in everyone. You really are a remarkable leader, Warden-Commander."

She never would have thought that about herself before or even during the Blight but at some point she had started thinking that the only way to save herself was to save others.

"Thanks, Nathaniel."

When she walked past Oghren's closed door on the way to her room she overheard a quiet voice whispering. Over and over the words "I'll be better" were repeated. She heard a feminine hushing sound and a murmur in reply.

She smiled and continued on her way. Maybe her old pessimism really had been wrong. Maybe things would work out for those two.

 **Justice**

Every now and then, when Mahariel looked at Justice, she didn't see the corpse at all. She saw a radiant spirit superimposed on a decaying body. When she blinked it was immediately gone but she wondered at it. It was an enchanting sight that made her want to be better. She'd been reluctant to bring a spirit with them at first. The Dalish didn't believe in a distinction between "spirits" and "demons" like humans did, so they were a little wary of all of them. But Mahariel had also learned that judging anyone, man, spirit, or golem, before getting to know them was utterly foolish, so she found no reason not to approach him more and more.

Mahariel had never really interacted with spirits before. She'd spoken to a few of the demons here and there during her travels as they liked to make themselves known in the living world with more frequency but this was utterly new. Perhaps if she had been the Keeper's First she would have more knowledge. All she knew came from what Merrill had told her, which was a great deal in fairness, but none of it had ever prepared her for a spirit trapped in a corpse that just wanted to do right by the world.

But Justice…

What an abstract ideal. How would the spirit know if he was achieving his goal or not?

Still, Mahariel longed to see such a thing bear fruit. For so long her people had been without any semblance of justice. She wondered if she brought him with her as a good luck charm.

Justice frequently asked her about the injustices of the world. Why were the elves treated differently from the humans? Why did society have a hierarchy? Weren't pets a form of slavery?

"Have you truly never interacted with the living before?" Mahariel was finally forced to ask. How could he know none of this? Wasn't the Beyond a reflection of the living world?

"I have not," Justice admitted. "This world is so strange and unchanging. I know not what to make of it. There is so much that is wrong here and yet so much joy as well. It's a curious thing."

Mahariel couldn't disagree with that.

Justice was an unusual fellow, Mahariel decided, but an honest one and certainly not one that would fall under the classification of "demon." He had no desire to possess the living and was truly uncomfortable with his predicament. He was so … innocent. It startled Mahariel but she found herself taking more and more time just to explain utterly basic concepts to him. He always listened to her with rapt attention.

"So, the cat is truly not a slave? It cannot exercise free will?"

"Hmm, not as such. Cats are considered independent really but keeping a pet isn't slavery. It's more a symbiotic relationship. We take care of them, feed them, love them, and in return they keep us company."

"And it is always like that?"

Mahariel sighed softly. If only. "No, Justice, I'm afraid it isn't. Some people abuse their pets just like they abuse people. The living are made up of shades of good and evil. But most people love their pets and want them to lead good lives."

"And what of things like cattle? They are eaten but they are kept like pets. Are they slaves?"

"You're not afraid to ask the difficult questions, are you?" Mahariel chuckled. Justice tilted his head in consternation. He was very expressive for a spirit.

"To be honest, I don't have an easy answer for you there. Some people would say you're right while others would say you're completely wrong. Ultimately, you have to decide for yourself."

"Are you not just evading the question? Shouldn't there be a simple answer to it?"

"I am evading a bit. I … wish things were that simple. When I was fighting the darkspawn, seeking out the archdemon, things seemed that simple. But the further on I got the more I realized I was wrong. Some of my best friends on that expedition would have been considered evil but they did great things. But as for the animals … the Dalish believe animals should be revered. We also hunt them but we honor their sacrifice. I don't know if it's right or wrong."

Justice was quiet for a long time. It was warm in the keep; she could hear the fire crackling away, warming her aching muscles. It had been a long and difficult day and she was frankly astounded she still had energy to talk to Justice at all.

"You are an honest person, Warden-Commander."

Mahariel regarded him in confusion. "I'm not sure I follow."

"If you were a spirit I would liken you to a Spirit of Truth. Spirits of Truth seek out the way things are but they do not concern themselves with why they are the way they are. That is more the domain of Wisdom. Pets can be treated poorly and they can be loved. This is honest, this is the Truth. Dalish honor animals but they hunt them as well. Again, this is the Truth but it does not cover whether it is right."

Mahariel thought about this. She wasn't sure if it was a compliment. "You think I'm amoral then?"

"Not precisely. Morals are not a concern to Spirits of Truth like they are for Compassion or Wisdom. But you are also like the Spirit of Duty and this leads you do to what is right. You do what you must no matter the cost, even when those around you would prefer you not. I spoke with the dwarf about your deeds during the Blight. You saw the Truth of needing help no matter where it came from. You also knew it was your Duty to stop the archdemon. Many people would have run from that, I think."

"But I'm not a spirit, Justice," Mahariel said gently. "There's still more to me than a desire to learn or do what is right."

He looked away from her in frustration for a moment before saying, "I know. It's difficult for me to adjust to that fact with you mortals. It's easier to categorize your different actions as the spirits I knew. Is that wrong?" He almost sounded hesitant. Justice was always so sure of himself but he'd been allowing her to see different sides to him lately.

"I don't think so. It sounds like you're trying to find Truth as well."

"Perhaps I am," Justice mused. He sounded uncomfortable. "But I simply wish to be Justice. I want to separate right from wrong. This world makes it so … difficult."

"That doesn't mean you're wrong to try. You aspire to a great thing, Justice. Just because you're forced to … tap into the expertise of other spirits doesn't mean you need to lose your focus. I daresay it would make you more effective at bringing Justice to others, in fact."

"Thank you." It was a simple statement yet it conveyed so much. She had overheard Justice speaking with Anders on a few occasions. The two couldn't be any more different in manner, so of course they clashed. She knew Anders had hurt him with his questions about demons. Mahariel didn't personally subscribe to the belief of spirits versus demons but it was clear the thought terrified Justice. He didn't wish to see his nature warped. Mahariel could understand that. She had often feared that for herself. She wasn't always satisfied with the decisions she'd made; she wondered if they made her a lesser version of herself.

Yes, she could understand Justice's fear of demons.

* * *

"What is the Beyond like, Justice? I've visited twice now strangely but I'm seeing it from the perspective of a mortal. What is it like to one who has always lived there?" Holding knowledge of the Beyond was a gift usually reserved for mages; the fact that she would be honored with a unique take on the subject was not lost on her. She hoped someday she could bring the knowledge back to her clan.

"It is beautiful," he said simply.

"But what is it like to live there?"

"There is no constant there. The world is an ever shifting kaleidoscope of mortal memories. Some of the memories are ancient. It never meant much to me at the time but now that I am here, in this mortal plane, I realize what a gift it is to have all that history at our fingertips. I think my people are wrong to ignore mortals so. We could help them. But I am not Wisdom; my demesne shall ever be Justice."

"I see." Just how old was Justice then? Was it even possible to attach an age to a spirit who would have no need of such a designation in the first place?

"Do you know anything of the Dalish? Of our history?"

Justice considered for a moment. "Until now I had no interest in the affairs of mortals, regardless of whether they were elves or humans. However, I have heard that there is a man who likes to converse with spirits with unusual frequency. I believe he is an elf but I have never spoken to him myself. Perhaps if you met him you could find answers to these questions."

"Maybe so," Mahariel said. She'd never heard of any elf spending so much time in the Beyond that he was known to spirits as more than just a visitor. "What's his name?"

"Hm? I think it was Solas. It's important to you, isn't it? Learning about Dalish history." He gave a stiff quirk of his rotting lips.

"Yes, very much. We've lost so much… even the slimmest chance of learning more would make a world of difference." She thought of Merrill and how she would do anything for knowledge. Perhaps she was a bit like a spirit of Truth herself.

"Then I hope you find what you are looking for, Warden-Commander. I don't know what good it will do you; the past will not change the present."

"No, but it's a start."

* * *

Mahariel worried that Justice wouldn't make any friends when he first joined. No one was sure whether they trusted him or not and Justice had a way of grating on people's nerves when he wanted to, especially if he thought they were in the wrong. Anders bore the brunt of Justice's dissatisfaction. If Mahariel wasn't being asked about the mortal world then Anders was and Anders was obviously uncomfortable with the role of mentor.

"Look, I don't see why you're so concerned about mage rights. It's not like it's any of your business anyway," Anders said for the thousandth time. Mahariel rolled her eyes. They were all in the tavern, trying to have a nice time, but Justice had fixated on Anders once more.

"What you mages suffer is unjust and therefore my business."

"Well, isn't that fantastic." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Anders's voice but Justice was undeterred.

"Surely you are not content with the way things are."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean I'm suicidal and that's what confronting the Circles would be in case you're wondering. Why can't you focus on some other cause? How about the elves? I'm sure Velanna would love to have someone kill humans with her."

"Killing random humans is unjust; what Velanna did was wrong," Justice said sternly.

"Is it now? And how, exactly, would we free mages without killing a whole lot of people?" he demanded angrily. Anders wasn't even drinking from his tankard anymore. His face was flushed but it was hard to tell if it was from the alcohol or the anger. Mahariel watched carefully from where she sat in the corner.

"We would use our words. Once the error of their ways is revealed they will follow a more righteous path."

Anders let out a loud, bitter laugh.

"You're a fool, Justice. Words are never enough to convince people. What do you think we've been doing? Do you really think that no one, in all this time, has tried using words to change the state of the Circles? Don't be insulting."

Justice was quiet for a long while. He wore a full set of armor even indoors to avoid making people uncomfortable but he still managed to look awkward. Mahariel watched in fascination. She hadn't known spirits were capable of such a wide range of emotion.

"I am sorry, Anders. It seems I must look into the issue more thoroughly. This world is … full of strange rules. Even so, I am still convinced that this cannot stand. You have suffered greatly at the hands of the Circle, the Chantry. This weighs on me."

Anders drew in a sharp breath and looked away. "I don't see why it would bother you one way or the other. You barely know me."

"I suppose that is true. But Mahariel said that she and I were friends. I think that I would like to consider you one as well. It seems that part of the definition of friendship among mortals is to "look out" for one another, correct?"

"Yeah," Anders muttered, his voice thick with an emotion Mahariel couldn't decipher. "I suppose that's true. I … never mind." Ser Pounce-a-lot poked its head out of his pocket and Anders scratched it behind the ear absently. He glanced at Justice one more, his expression shrouded.

"If you want we could, I don't know, talk about it more, find some books. But if you could lay off on some of the judgment that would be nice."

Justice nodded somberly. "I will do my best."

Mahariel stepped out silently. Maybe Justice would make a friend after all. Anders was an unlikely choice, the two were about as different as it was possible to be, but maybe they'd balance each other out. Justice needed a guide to the mortal world and Mahariel could only do so much. Furthermore, Anders needed to take a more proactive role in his own life and Mahariel knew she could do nothing to encourage it. Anders saw her as an authority figure despite his fondness for her. If he felt she was pressuring him to conform to expectation or shackle his freedom in any way he would leave.

Mahariel hoped the two would help each other.

 **Nathaniel**

What was Mahariel supposed to make of Nathaniel? He was stout-hearted, believed the best of everyone (except for her at first), and dedicated himself to the cause.

He was nearly perfect as far as companions went and yet she found herself confused around him. He didn't really need much direction unlike most of her other companions; he intuitively knew what to do on the battlefield.

He was irritated by many things, particularly Anders, but he ultimately got along with everyone. His top choices in companions were utterly unexpected however.

Velanna and Justice.

Mahariel tried to wrap her mind around it. Velanna and Justice weren't friends. Not really. They worked together because they had to but given a choice Mahariel was sure they'd just as soon never see each other again. Mahariel hoped that might change someday but for now she wasn't so sure.

Despite that, they both sought out Nathaniel's company. Neither had gotten along with him at first but now they were nearly impossible to separate provided it wasn't all three of them at once.

"What troubles you now, my lady?" Nathaniel asked one day.

Velanna sputtered in embarrassment but ultimately confessed she was feeling trapped in the walls of the keep. The two of them had gotten rather close. Mahariel supposed Nathaniel and Anders simply weren't meant to be, but she did like the thought of Velanna finding someone who made her happy. She had suffered in a way no Dalish elf could bear and certainly deserved it.

As for Justice, he clung to Nathaniel's philosophies as if they were holy water.

When she overheard Nathaniel claiming he would consider Justice no demon if he shared a body with a willing host, her ears immediately perked up. She tried to feign disinterest but this conversation was noteworthy. Would Nathaniel really allow Justice to join with him? He hadn't said as much, but that was the implication. She could see the hope in Justice's eyes, dead though they may be. If the two of them joined... what would that mean for Nathaniel and Velanna?

It left her unsettled, but she said nothing. It didn't appear as though either of them would pursue that course anytime soon. She hoped they would speak to her and possibly Anders before they tried anything. That could be dangerous; they'd need a capable mage to help them.

 **Sigrun**

"What do you think about all this?" Sigrun asked one day as they were trekking through the forest on their way to Amaranthine.

"What do you mean?" She and Sigrun didn't talk often. She wasn't sure if it was because they didn't have much in common due to life experience or if it was something else. Sigrun seemed almost wary around her and she could admit she rarely knew what to say to the morbidly cheerful woman.

"I mean… everything. You're an elf, so you've seen woods before. You've seen … I don't know. Life! What do you think about it?"

That was another thing about Sigrun. Just like Justice she had taken to asking her all manner of questions, most of which were incredibly difficult to answer.

"You've seen life, too," Mahariel responded carefully, wondering where this was going.

"Yeah, but I'm already dead. It would be nice to have another perspective. I don't regret my choice, but now that I'm up here, seeing the world, I just want to know what a native thinks."

Mahariel considered that as they meandered down the road. She could see Anders peaking at them furtively, no doubt wanting to butt in on the conversation. Thankfully, Nathaniel was at his side, giving him a pointed look that could only be translated as "Don't."

Eventually, she said, "It's difficult. There are a lot of choices to be made, life and death scenarios, and sometimes you have to leave everything behind to save something greater." I had to leave my people to help the world and I can never go back.

"Huh, doesn't sound much different from being dead," Sigrun said with a dark chuckle. "Things are never simple, are they?"

"Not in my experience," Mahariel said softly. "Not even once."

They continued on in silence. Sigrun was unusually contemplative for the remainder of the trip.

 **Velanna**

In many ways, Velanna was a kindred spirit to Mahariel. They were both Dalish, had both lost contact with their clans (Mahariel by her own choice largely, Velanna less so), and they both cared a great deal about restoring Dalish history.

It was a wonder then that they didn't get along at all.

"Well? If you want to learn about magical theory then you can fight against me."

Mahariel had approached her, hoping to bond with her in a way similar to how she'd bonded with Merrill and Morrigan in the past. It appeared it would not be that simple.

"That's not really what I had in mind…" Mahariel tried.

"I don't care what you had in mind. Honestly, you've been around humans too long. You're as weak willed as they are."

It had been a simple attempt at conversation. Mahariel had always enjoyed discussing magic with Morrigan. She couldn't use it herself but that didn't mean she wanted to go around without any knowledge of it whatsoever. It was part of why she'd supported Dagna back in Orzammar. She wanted to expand her understanding of the world. She wanted to be more and Mahariel knew all about that.

Unfortunately, Velanna was more hotheaded than Morrigan had ever been and Mahariel hadn't thought that was even possible. Velanna seemed to view her as something close to a traitor. It was true that Mahariel was comfortable around humans now. She could navigate their society. She hadn't returned to the Dalish despite guaranteeing them land. It wasn't that she had cut herself off from her heritage. Rather, she simply knew that she'd changed. She'd changed in ways that even she was uncomfortable with. It was easier to accept those changes when she didn't have to see the confusion in the eyes of people she used to know.

"All right," Mahariel reluctantly acquiesced. "I'm not entirely sure why this is the only way to learn about magic but if you insist."

"I do."

They spared a bit; she could tell Velanna was going easy on her despite her harsh words and she wondered at that. Perhaps the woman wasn't as unapproachable as she liked to make herself out to be. Mahariel easily dodged left and right, sensing the magic as it streamed through the air. Velanna primarily focused on Dalish magic and that had a unique taste to it. It made her think of Merrill and of happier times when they would sit inside her tent and discuss spirits and magical theory.

"You're quite adept at dodging," Velanna said grudgingly when she finally let up. They'd gone for quite some time and Mahariel was working up a sweat. "You are familiar with the arcane arts."

"I spent a lot of time around the keeper's First," Mahariel said with a smile. "She was an incredibly gifted mage."

"Hm, perhaps I was too harsh in my judgment of you. Not by much," she stressed, "but a little."

"Thanks, Velanna," Mahariel said with a wry grin.

Velanna shifted awkwardly before saying, "Perhaps we could discuss some of our people's past."

"How about their future?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said with a sniff.

 **Mahariel**

It was strange to think of how long she'd been here now. It had been well over a years and she'd heard nothing from Zevran since his initial letter. Oh, she'd gotten some news in the form of rumors, though she had doubt as to the veracity of them. What she'd heard concerned her, though. There had been talk of a renegade Crow seeking revenge. That hadn't been much of a surprise.

What was a surprise was that some of these rumors insisted he'd been caught.

Preposterous, she thought. But that didn't ease the tendril of doubt that refused to be dismissed. What if something had happened to Zevran? It had been long enough that just about anything could have.

She was hesitant to leave the Wardens. After their battle with the darkspawn, having just barely saved Amaranthine, she felt as though she needed to stay to preserve the peace.

But she knew in her heart that her time with them was coming to an end. She would always be Warden-Commander, but it was time to help the wardens, and herself, in a new way.

She wanted to find a cure. She'd never quite forgiven Duncan for giving her a death sentence all those years ago, well-intentioned or not. Alistair did not share this particular viewpoint and she'd made sure to keep it to herself.

But she wasn't going to let the taint kill her. Not willingly at any rate.

Before she could do anything about that, she would have to find Zevran. She couldn't let fate take him from her, not after everything they'd been through together. Once he was safely at her side they would travel, find the cure, and she would hand deliver it to those she had convinced to join her cause. It was the least she could do after bringing them into the fold; she'd tried to give them forewarning, but they'd been all too eager.

It was a sad parting. Justice was largely positive once she explained her motive, Anders was distraught, Velanna grew teary-eyed and tried to deny it, Nathaniel tried to comfort her awkwardly, Oghren gave a loud grunt and a solid pat on the back, and Sigrun simply said, "Don't die too soon out there, you hear?"

"You've all grown so much since you've come here," Mahariel said quietly. "The siege on Vigil's Keep was long and difficult, but you held fast. We lost some good people, but they died defending what they believed in. While I am reluctant to leave you now, I hope to bring back the cure for all Grey Wardens." She hesitated before adding, "I'll miss you."

They threw a party that lasted the entirety of the night. Mahariel finally had to slip out, feeling a touch queasy from the mead and large portions of food they'd kept coming her way. She got a horse from the stable and headed for port. Thankfully she'd packed well before her speech and the party had begun.

It was time to find Zevran, time to set things right with the Crows, and time to cure the Wardens from their curse.

She stared down the dark road and promised herself she wouldn't rest until her duty was finished.

* * *

 **Notes:**

All right! And this leads the way into my next story, which will center around Mahariel finding out exactly what happened to Zevran. I'll admit, I feel like this story was a little rougher than I would like. It's a different style from what I'm used to, but I think it's paved the way for my next story well enough. I hope you guys enjoyed the start of Mahariel's continuing adventures!


End file.
